


Stardust

by gallifreyslostson



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: I just needed to process some feelings, M/M, and make these boys use their words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 23:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyslostson/pseuds/gallifreyslostson
Summary: Peter Nureyev had made mistakes, but loving Juno Steel hadn't been one of them. Juno is less convinced, but he's trying.





	Stardust

“We need to make a stop,” Buddy informed them. “We’re picking up Jet and the last of our team.”

“_And _the last of our team?” Peter asked, surprised. They had a thief, an assassin, and a grifter, as well as Jet’s...many talents. He wasn’t sure who else was needed for their team without someone getting in the way. “Can I ask who?”

“You can certainly ask,” Buddy drawled. “Say please and I might even tell you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, then bowed theatrically. “If it pleases you, madam.”

She sighed, arching the one visible but perfectly manicured eyebrow. “If you _must _know, Jet has procured a hacker with unmatched talents.”

“Ah, I see,” Peter said, nodding. After all, one more couldn’t hurt, and a hacker could more than pull their own weight--

“And a private investigator,” she went on, and Peter froze. “Something of a package deal, you could say, but he’s very good. Observant, good shot--hopefully still as good with--”

“One eye?” Peter asked, feeling a little dizzy.

“Why yes. Do you know Detective Steel?”

“...we’ve met, yes,” Peter said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strangled as he felt. “He helped me procure the Ruby 7 as a matter of fact. In a slightly...roundabout way, admittedly. I believe I promised to turn it in.”

“Well, he’ll have to get over his disappointment,” Buddy said, then gave him a sharp look. “I trust your time together ended on good terms?”

“That’s...difficult to say for sure,” he replied slowly.

“Let me rephrase that: I trust you two will play nice or get thrown off this ship.”

“Of course, Buddy,” he said then, swallowing hard. “We’ll be perfect gentlemen. Excuse me. I need to check something.”

His sanity, for instance. Good lord. Honestly, this was a big galaxy. Even Mars was a big planet. There was no reason for Juno Steel to keep falling in his lap like this. Especially since _falling in his lap _was something Juno Steel had made very clear he wanted no part of.

He hurried to his quarters and the tiny bathroom inside, splashing water on his face before glaring at his reflection.

“Keep it together, Peter,” he told himself sternly.

Then he groaned, fell back against the opposite wall, and slid to the floor. There was one person in the _known universe _who could make Peter Nureyev completely undone, and very soon, he’d be boarding this ship, in all his exhausted, snarky, petulant, wonderful, sexy glory. And _Peter_ was expected to act like a perfect gentleman, which meant neither punching him in the face _nor _shoving him against the nearest vertical surface and kissing him until neither of them could breathe.

He’d long suspected the universe was unfair, but this really was too much.

He could leave, he supposed. Take the Ruby 7 and go...where? There would be another space port nearby that he could bribe to load the contraband car, that wasn’t a problem. It would serve Detective Steel right to watch him drive off into the sunset, carefree as a bird without him.

Except that he wasn’t. The last several months had been...well, rather miserable, if he was honest. Oh, he’d picked up the pieces of his shattered heart quickly enough, he’d been off to another paradise within hours of waking up to an empty bed. But the memory of that night...that he _hadn’t _been able to leave behind, try as he might. And he _did _try. With new planets in new solar systems Juno had refused. New jobs. New...people.

But it had suddenly all felt...very empty. At first he’d been hurt, and angry. How _dare _Juno Steel refuse him, _lie _to him, play him the way he played people and then just leave him in the night? Clearly the man’s moral high ground was a mole hill if that’s how he conducted himself. What did he care what some private investigator who’d as soon arrest him as woo him did?

Then, at some point, as the hurt lost its sharpness, as the anger lost its heat...he realized what a fool he’d been. Not in falling for the detective--that hadn’t even been a choice, _that _had been decided within a few hours of meeting the man, and who could blame him? Quick, funny, tired and impatient, so sharp he’d cut himself and radiating the impression that he probably already had more times than he could even count anymore. So broken inside, beaten by his own past and the ugliness of the world, but still trying so hard to be some good in it. Who could meet that man and not fall in love?

No, his fool’s game was the choice he’d given him. He’d intended to make an offer of the stars, but also to give Juno an out should he need one. It took weeks, _months, _for him to realize his mistake.

_“I’m excited to share that future with you. But only if it’s the future you want. And if it isn’t, I’ll leave alone. For good. And that will be that.”_

“Come with me, or never see me again.” That’s what he’d said to a man who’d needed the propellant of certain death to admit he’d cared. Who, hours before, had _literally attempted martyrdom_. All or nothing to a man who lived and tried to die by that.

That wasn’t a man you could make an all or nothing offer to. Because that was a man who believed nothing was all he deserved.

So Peter had broken his promise. Briefly. He’d gone to Mars, tailed Juno, left flowers with his secretary at her apartment after he’d arrived for his birthday. Dahlias and roses. He wouldn’t force his presence on Juno if he wasn’t wanted, but...but he could at least remind Juno that...that he deserved more than nothing, if that was indeed the issue. That, should he need Peter, well...there were ways to make that happen.

Which was all well and good but didn’t actually give Peter a hint as to how to deal with _this _situation. Juno was apparently ready to race off into the stars with someone else, _clearly _without the faintest idea that Peter would be aboard. And Peter was just expected to deal with sudden close quarters contact with the man he loved as intrinsically and reflexively as he loved _breathing_. After months of not knowing why Juno had fled in the night, not really, just grasping at straws and probable delusions to make him feel better, to make him believe that maybe, possibly, there might be a chance...that Juno really loved him too.

_“Landing in five minutes.”_

Five minutes. Well. One thing was for certain. He needed to pick his wardrobe very carefully. If Juno still wanted him, then Peter was going to make him drool. And if he didn’t...well. Then he should at least be made painfully aware of what he was missing.

***

_“Hello, Juno. It’s been a while.”_

For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t even breathe. I just stare at that...sharp smile, and I can’t tell if it’s really sight or just memory but I swear, even from this distance...his eyes are so bright.

_Nureyev._

I honestly thought I wouldn’t see him again, that...that really would be that. That my own self-destruction, my own _need _to do _good _for a city that would never, ever thank me for it had cost me even another glance at that face.

Then again. Maybe that would have been too easy.

“Mister Steel? Boss? You coming?”

I look at Rita, clear my throat, and force my body to move. “Yeah. Yeah, right behind you.”

We walked onto the ship, Rita dragging that suitcase behind her. Buddy closed up shop as soon as we were on board, turning to us.

“Juno. You remember Vespa.”

“Briefly,” I say, trying not to watch Nureyev out of the corner of my eye and failing as he slides off the hood of the Ruby 7.

“And apparently you’ve already been introduced to Mister Glass,” she adds, and this time I actually glance at Nureyev, just in time to see his eyebrow arch at me.

“Mister--of course. Rex, wasn’t it?”

“Glad to see you haven’t forgotten me so soon, Juno,” he says. “Why don’t I show you and the lovely Miss Rita to your quarters while Buddy pilots us out of here?”

He takes Rita’s suitcase. You know, like I probably should have. She giggles, and I roll my eye at his wink.

“Oh, Mister Glass,” she coos, smiling up at him. “Such a gentleman. How do you know Mister Steel?”

“Oh, our paths have crossed a time or two,” Nureyev says, leading the way down a cramped hallway, then down and around a set of spiraling steps.

“Hang on, wait. I _do _remember you. Didn’t you work for Dark Matters?”

Without skipping a beat, Nureyev smiles that...annoyingly gorgeous smile. “Oh, I’ve worked for practically everyone, Rita dear. This is your room. Ju--Detective Steel will be right across the hall.”

“Ohhhh, fancy.”

“If you’d like, once you’re settled, I can show you our computer set up,” he offered. “No doubt you’ll have suggestions for improvements.”

I can see it in her eyes, in the words her lips are forming, she’s about to ask to see it now, get the whole grand tour from the lovely _Mr Glass_. Meanwhile, no one seems to have noticed that I’m about _crawl out of my skin_.

I should say something right? But what do I say? What _can _you say to the man you left in the middle of the night, knowing that leaving would mean you’d never see him again, even after promising...everything. Everything you wanted so badly you could taste it, but just...couldn’t bite down, no matter how good you knew it could be.

What do you say?

“Actually I need to talk to Mr Glass for a minute.”

Apparently, you say that. Loudly. In the middle of someone else’s sentence, to really get the maximum _punch_.

“Sorry,” I mumble as Nureyev and Rita both turn to stare at me. “It’s...you know what, it’s fine. I’m just gonna--this room? Great. Cool. I’m just gonna go in here, _get settled_, call me if you need me--” I scuttle into my room and close the door behind me, leaning back against it and closing my eyes. “I definitely won’t be trying to drown myself in the shower.”

I hear muffled talking in the hall. Rita’s door opens, then shuts, and there’s footsteps walking away. I take a deep breath--

\--and then nearly jump out of my skin when there’s a knock on the door behind me.

“Rita, I--oh.”

It’s not Rita. The figure in the doorway when I open the door is considerably taller, considerably leaner, considerably...drop dead gorgeous.

_Keep it together, Steel._

“I sent Rita off to find Jet,” he says, glancing down the hall. “He can show her the computers.”

“Oh. That’s...nice of him.”

“You said you wanted to talk,” Nureyev says, his calm quickly becoming infuriating, but there’s something...else. In his eyes. A wariness. He’s not sure what I’m about to say...and less sure he’s gonna like it. Well, buddy, that makes two of us, welcome to the team. “No time like the present.”

“Yeahhhhh, I guess you’re right. Uh.”

“You could start by inviting me in,” he suggests, and I back up to let him by. He walks in, paces the short length of the room with his hands in his pockets, then turns to me. “It really is a shame there isn’t more we can do about the size of these rooms, but at least sharing isn’t required. Offered, but not required.”

“What?”

“Buddy and Vespa,” Nureyev says, then clears his throat and looks down.

“Right. Yeah. That...makes sense.” I swallow hard, willing him to start this conversation, but knowing that...that’s not his job. I left. I have to do this. That doesn’t make it easier.

I wonder for second what he’d do if I just...said to hell with it and kissed him. That would...explain things, right? That would show him I still care, that I hadn’t wanted to...then again. He didn’t seem hurt. Or angry. He barely seemed fazed that I was here at all.

“Actually, on second thought, maybe I will just...take some time to settle in. Go catch up with Buddy and...actually talk to Vespa. Like. At all.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer,” he says with a shrug, sliding past me for the door. He stops, turning back for just a second. “I must say, Detective Steel, it’s good to see not all offers to see the stars are beneath you. Just mine, apparently.”

And _there _it is. The same sting that had come with him being “glad to see you haven’t forgotten me.” This one was worse though. Cut a hell of a lot deeper for one.

Okay. So maybe he was a little fazed.

“Wait,” I groan, running a hand down my face, and I hear him sigh.

“If it’s all the same, Detective, if you’ve got something to say to me, I really wish you’d just say it,” he says, and I can practically see his carefully constructed pretense cracking. “I’ve got things to do that don’t involve dancing around subjects or waiting for you to just--”

“I’m sorry,” I say, cutting him off, even though I know he...probably deserves the rant. It very suddenly occurs to me that there is a very real possibility that the cool facade was for my benefit, not his, and that the man in front of me, the man I’ve dreamed of and yearned for and beaten myself up over for _months _might...actually hate me. And probably should. But...I had to try. I had to at least...be honest with him. For once. I...owed him that.

I had to try.

“I’m sorry for...that night. I’m sorry for...the promises I couldn’t keep. I’m sorry I left.”

His hand leaves the door, and he turns to me. It’s a start, I tell myself, now for once in your goddamn life, bring it home.

“But I didn’t lie to you. I did...want that. All of it. The stars...the future. With you. I just...I couldn’t. Not then. Not yet. I just...couldn’t let go.”

“Juno--”

“I’ve spent..._decades _breaking everything and everyone around me...because I didn’t know how not to. Because I couldn’t let _them _believe in me, because if no one believes in you then you can’t let anyone down when you eventually screw everything up again. But that night...Nureyev, _that night_, everything said I said through that door, I meant it.”

“_Juno--_”

“But the truth is, I only said it because I was about to die. And that was supposed to be a good thing.”

“...for who?”

I shrug with a bitter laugh, trying to ignore the stinging in my eye. “The universe? I was finally going to get the laser blast that had been meant for me for twenty goddamn years, and some...cosmic balance would be restored. Except I didn’t die. I was still alive, and you were there, and I had...nothing.”

“Juno, you can’t--

“I meant everything I said. But I couldn't actually take what you were offering, because I was never going to measure up to that guy, the guy I pretended to be, the good guy, the hero, and sooner or later, you were going to figure it out too. And I couldn't deal with that. So I left. And I went back to the same stupid office in the same stupid city that I'd been bleeding in for years because hey, if I was gonna bleed out anyway, might as well be close to home. But I never stopped thinking of you. And I never stopped being sorry for walking away.”

I sniff and wipe at my eye in the silence that follows. It’s not enough, I _know _it’s not enough, it’s just...excuses, but I don’t know what else to say. I wait for him to tell me it’s too little and _way _too late, or maybe to just leave.

“Are you done?” he asks after a minute, and I nod. He sighs, walking over to the bench along one wall and sitting down, looking just...exhausted. Which is weird, because that’s just...not something that you usually see on Peter Nureyev. He’s always moving...or he’s unconscious. Not a lot of in between. “I’m sorry too.”

“I...wait, what?”

“I never should have put you in the position to choose between all of that and me,” he says, shrugging. “It wasn’t my intention. I just...wanted to give you a get out clause. But that’s how it came out and it was unfair of me.”

“No, you--”

“Juno, you’ve nailed yourself quite proficiently to your cross,” he cuts in. “At least do me the courtesy of acknowledging mine. I’ve been working on it for months.”

I laugh at that, even if it ends with a sniff, then look at him again. “I...missed you so much.”

His eyes travel over my face, looking for something, and his expression softens into something that looks like...something I was sure I’d lost any chance at.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you, Juno?”

“Yeah.” I take off my hat, sitting down on the bed across from him and running my hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s been...a lot.”

“I’m going to go find us a bottle of...something expensive,” he tells me, standing up. “One of the nicer perks to working with Buddy. And...then we’ll talk. Alright?”

“I’d like that.”

“And...Juno?”

“Hmm?”

I look up just as he bends down, his lips soft, his kiss more intoxicating than the finest brandy. It’s familiar, it should be, but...but every one has always been as electric as the first. And now...now that I...I feel like I could actually be someone who...can be loved by Peter Nureyev, it has a whole new flavor. It tastes like...yesterday, and tomorrow. It tastes like everyone we might be, and whoever we actually manage to become. It tastes like...stardust, and Peter Nureyev. And I know that if I manage to live another hundred years...I’ll never get enough of that taste.

And for once, that might be okay. Because it doesn’t seem like he will, either.


End file.
